


Unknown

by elisetales



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted to Tumblr. Encke is forced to confront some of the harsher realities of war. Angst, fluff, and Keeler's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/gifts).



“I heard what happened with the fighters today,” Keeler said, sitting at their little study desk with his back to Encke, head bent over a small pile of papers.

Encke stopped what he was doing—stirring a third spoon of sugar into Keeler’s tea—and said shortly, “They were getting out of hand. Had to be set straight somehow.” Keeler didn’t need to know the ins and outs of it, and he probably didn’t want to.

“Is everything under control?” Keeler pressed. “Only I heard things got a little heated down there this afternoon. One of the fighters is in the medical bay with a sprained arm. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

“He was asking for it, believe me,” Encke muttered, and slowly started stirring again. “And everything’s under control now; they’ll step into line if they know what’s good for them. About time they learned what it means to be men. This is war, not some dive-bar pissing contest.”

“Hmm,” Keeler replied, the same way he always did when he had more to say, just didn’t want to say it in front of Encke.

Encke dropped it, though—wasn’t in the mood for a debate over his methods of keeping the men in line when he knew Keeler would never understand it anyway—and came up behind him, setting Keeler’s tea down on the desk beside him and bringing his hands to Keeler’s bare shoulders.

“What are you doing, anyway, still working?” He leaned over Keeler, Keeler’s soft hair brushing his cheek, and murmured, “Put it away for the night, baby, and come—”

“I’m not working,” Keeler said with obvious impatience, shoulders tensing beneath Encke’s hands. “I’m—” He paused and delicately cleared his throat before going on, “I’m putting my affairs in order, Encke.” There was a long silence, Keeler’s words sinking in, and Encke drew away from him.

“What? Why?”

“We’re getting closer to war, aren’t we?” Keeler asked, sounding perfectly calm and reasonable. “It only makes sense to prepare for the worst. If something happens to us—to  _me_ —I want my family to be taken care of.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Encke said too sharply, chest tight and grinding his jaw. He leaned over Keeler and took his hand, made him drop his pen, and twisted their fingers together. “You think I’d let you down?” he whispered, cheek pressed to Keeler’s.

“Of course I don’t. But there’s nothing you or I can do to stop what’s coming,” Keeler answered and bent his head, soft breath stirring the loose threads of his hair. “We can’t know how this is going to end, and if something happens to me,” he went on, “ _just_ me, then I want you to promise you’ll give this to my family.” Encke looked down at the letter Keeler had been working on, written in Keeler’s neat and elegant hand, and Keeler squeezed his fingers. “Please, Encke.”

Encke closed his eyes and just nodded. Knew there was no arguing with Keeler once he’d made up his mind, and this was the harsh reality of what they’d signed up for—war and loss and the real possibility of an early death. There was no sense in running from it.

“Yeah. ‘Course I will,” Encke said gruffly and stood up, scraping Keeler’s hair back and carefully beginning to unbraid it.

Keeler relaxed, slumping forward, and let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

Encke didn’t say anything else, didn’t want to think another minute about it, just dragged his fingers through Keeler’s soft hair, gathering it up in his hands and clumsily re-braiding it.


End file.
